Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
27.Oct.18, 10:26 AM
N’mor flushed slightly at the name, but his slightly wary smile turned into a true one, if small, when Z’rin claimed the name. The kiss was accepted, and returned, and N’mor tilted his head slightly with an upraised eyebrow when Z’rin continued. “I love you,” N’mor said softly, as if that explained everything, eyes wide and slightly confused. N’mor didn’t know how to explain it, even to himself, but there had been a massive shift in how he perceived the man sitting on him, and a large (all?) of it was because he loved Z’rin, and could (finally) see him as entirely more than the colour of his dragon.
“Maybe not,” N’mor murmured, enjoying the sound of his full name on Z’rin’s lips, but not enough to dispel his discomfort with the memory of his short stint with T’ryn. If N’mor was honest with himself, it wasn’t that he’d slept with T’ryn – it was that he had been willing to completely ditch Z’rin in an instant to be with his best friend; that the only reason he’d stopped holding back so much with Z’rin, was because T’ryn had told him to enjoy being with the bluerider. At his core, N’mor was incredibly ashamed of that, and though he knew he had reasons to give blueriders all of no respect or trust, Z’rin was more than that and N’mor was saddened by all that might have been abandoned.
But it wasn’t, so don’t dwell on it! N’mor startled when his dragon spoke to him, having been entirely wrapped up in all things Z’rin until that point, and his eyes flickered to where the dragon ledge was, before glancing back at Z’rin as his lover shifted. The question was met with furrowed brows, and N’mor studied Z’rin’s face for a moment, his lips pursed. “Please,” he said softly, knowing he didn’t sound at all like his usual self. He pouted at Z’rin, though there was a playful sparkle in his eyes as he sat up carefully, wrapping his arm around Z’rin and kissing him softly. “I don’t care to share you.” He spoke carefully, tone light and lingering in the realm of playful, but he was serious, careful to make sure Z’rin could see he was without the threat of getting grumpy if he didn’t get his way.
N’mor knew he was arrogant, and demanding, and had a taste for getting his way, but he’d also spent a good chunk of his young life watching his father and N’mall live what he’d learned was not a healthy relationship, especially when he saw the way B’jin and R’nd lived together. He wanted his relationship to be like that one; or at least how he perceived it. He knew they loved each other (even if it had taken them a really long time to figure it out) and he knew that neither of them put demands on the other (or at least, none born of pettiness or jealousy… not when Larrikith wasn’t proddy, anyway).
That won’t be a problem, Rhezalth put in dryly, and N’mor spluttered before biting his lip and swallowing the laughter. “Rhea says we don’t have to worry about getting proddy,” he smirked, amused, before sobering a little. “But since both our dragons have a thing for the ladies,” and didn’t that pose an interesting thought! Could dragons fancy their own sex like humans did? N’mor was pretty sure even if they did, they wouldn’t be acting on it… well, he didn’t think so, anyway. He wasn’t that interested in dragon anatomy and Rhezalth’s bewildered response told him his dragon couldn’t understand why N’mor would tumble down that thought path anyway.
N’mor blinked and shook his head slightly. “Lady dragons,” he echoed, bringing himself back on track. “We could only be dragonrider-exclusive, not like, Holder-exclusive.” And he blinked at Z’rin, wondering if that made half as much sense out loud as it had in his head before he tried to vocalise it. The statement didn’t really make a lot of sense, when one considered that the only time men screwed in a Hold was when they were sneaking around behind their wives’ backs. N’mor scrunched his nose up, and gave Z’rin a dry look, waiting for the sassy quip.
“Maybe not,” N’mor murmured, enjoying the sound of his full name on Z’rin’s lips, but not enough to dispel his discomfort with the memory of his short stint with T’ryn. If N’mor was honest with himself, it wasn’t that he’d slept with T’ryn – it was that he had been willing to completely ditch Z’rin in an instant to be with his best friend; that the only reason he’d stopped holding back so much with Z’rin, was because T’ryn had told him to enjoy being with the bluerider. At his core, N’mor was incredibly ashamed of that, and though he knew he had reasons to give blueriders all of no respect or trust, Z’rin was more than that and N’mor was saddened by all that might have been abandoned.
N’mor knew he was arrogant, and demanding, and had a taste for getting his way, but he’d also spent a good chunk of his young life watching his father and N’mall live what he’d learned was not a healthy relationship, especially when he saw the way B’jin and R’nd lived together. He wanted his relationship to be like that one; or at least how he perceived it. He knew they loved each other (even if it had taken them a really long time to figure it out) and he knew that neither of them put demands on the other (or at least, none born of pettiness or jealousy… not when Larrikith wasn’t proddy, anyway).
N’mor blinked and shook his head slightly. “Lady dragons,” he echoed, bringing himself back on track. “We could only be dragonrider-exclusive, not like, Holder-exclusive.” And he blinked at Z’rin, wondering if that made half as much sense out loud as it had in his head before he tried to vocalise it. The statement didn’t really make a lot of sense, when one considered that the only time men screwed in a Hold was when they were sneaking around behind their wives’ backs. N’mor scrunched his nose up, and gave Z’rin a dry look, waiting for the sassy quip.
